


Seven Months

by alec



Series: Hijack Drabbles [5]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Loss, M/M, Post-Loss, The logic behind this was kind of dumb tbh, so that's why i never went very far with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alec/pseuds/alec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been over seven months since Henry hadn’t come home. For the first month, Jack kept a tally of the days, waiting for Henry’s plane to be found, for someone to rescue and pull Henry to safety. But when the thirtieth day passed and the search mission was called off and Henry declared officially missing (presumed dead), Jack gave up hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Months

It had been over seven months since Henry hadn’t come home. For the first month, Jack kept a tally of the days, waiting for Henry’s plane to be found, for someone to rescue and pull Henry to safety. But when the thirtieth day passed and the search mission was called off and Henry declared officially missing (presumed dead), Jack gave up hope. He wasn’t sure how many days had passed since Henry had left through the garage door. There was no point counting the days; there wasn’t anything on the other side.

In the past seven months, Jack had slipped from social life. His friends had been their friends, and when Henry’s plane was lost, each friend had come and stayed with Jack, holding him and waiting by the phone so that Jack could get fitful naps that did nothing to alleviate the ever-darkening wells beneath his eyes. All too quickly, however, Jack started keeping others at bay. He couldn’t bear to look at his friends faces when each brought with them memories of Jack and Henry together, laughing at a bar or smiling at Jamie’s garden party. Each friend became a reminder of the loss, and it became too much to be forced to face the insurmountable pain that none of them could relate to. And so Jack withdrew into himself. He would go for days with the same despondent look in his eyes, not speaking a single word, watching as the world passed him by, all the while unwilling and unable to reach out and touch it. His wonder and enthusiasm for life were gone.

It was a Tuesday morning at work when Jack received the call on his personal phone from the Coast Guard. Only half of the tail had been found, washed up on the shore of a small forested island; the rest had presumably sunk in the surrounding Atlantic Ocean.

But more importantly, they had recovered Henry. And Jack was to come and retrieve him.

The drive to the Coast Guard office was thirty five minutes. It was a route that Jack had made twice every day for the duration of the search. In a daze, the car drove itself as Jack’s mind was surprisingly calm and collected, devoid of all thought. He had hoped that this day would come; knowing what had happened, being able to give Henry a proper burial, would bring closure. The possibility of hope was so much worse, coming at the cost of never knowing.

Parking the car in the visitor’s spot, Jack took a breath before leaving the car and moving towards the building. The glass door opened without Jack feeling the weight of his palm on the handle pulling it.

The receptionist — Macey — looked up, double taking when she saw Jack. He was tired of pity; he couldn’t stand the pity any more. He let her walk him through the building without listening to her words or looking at her face.

As the back reception room door was opened, Luke, captain of the local Coast Guard, and Jeremy, head of the search team organised to find Henry looked at the newcomer, whose once-white hair was now returned to its natural brown, only the ends and tips still frosted with white.

But Jack saw neither of them.

He shouldn’t have recognised him, by all accounts. The body was haggard from malnutrition. The eyes were surrounded with new crinkles, and skin was peeling off from prolonged exposure. He sported a beard, unruly and unkempt. And he was missing a leg, propped back and supported in his chair, clutching an ice pack.

Henry broke the silence, reverently whispering: “Jack.”

Seven months of pain, of hopelessness, of emotions suppressed unleashed, and Jack could feel everything, every nerve of his body, screaming as they came back to life.

He didn’t realise that his own body was propelling him, dashing around the conference table that separated them. He hit his hip against the corner, hard enough to leave a bruise that lasted for weeks, but didn’t falter; didn’t even notice.

Jack threw his arms around Henry’s shoulders, pulling him tight and holding him, trying to make sure that this wasn’t an illusion his eyes played on him. But Henry was real, the skin and jutting bones even more pronounced with starvation. And Jack gripped him tighter, burying his face against the shoulder that he had known he would never get to hold again. Wordless but deafening sobs came as Jack’s body shook under the weight of the emotions coursing through his body, and Jack kept gripping tighter and tighter until Henry winced, one of his ribs broken.

"Henry— Henry—" Jack repeated like a mantra, the tears streaming down his face.

And Henry was crying as well, holding Jack back as best he could in his weakened state, soothingly whispering encouragement to his lover. Henry had had the past seven months knowing that he would return to Jack; Jack had had nothing.

The two held each other, Henry propped in his chair and Jack on his knees, and Jack cried until there were no more tears to bring out, and his body settled down even as his mind and heart continued racing. And Henry just smiled against Jack’s hair, smelling the scent of civilisation and the chocolate shampoo that Jack used.

Henry was the one to break the silence in the room again.

"They couldn’t recover Toothless," he said, a fact which, though sad, did nothing to wipe away the smile on his face.

Jack laughed even as his tears renewed, strengthening his grip again on Henry where it had loosened. And Jack smiled and cried and buried his head into Henry’s neck.

And Jack prayed for the first time in seven months: that this dream wouldn’t end.


End file.
